


the future's in our memories

by adamantine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Flashbacks & Flashforwards, M/M, S7E1 Spoilers, Space Whale Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 11:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: While on the space whale, Krolia gets a glimpse of Keith's past and future with Shiro.





	the future's in our memories

**Author's Note:**

> this is 100% inspired by everyone's conspiracies that krolia KNOWS SOMETHING and that's why she's so calm while shiro is dying int S7E1

The timeflashes come with less frequency on the space whale, but they never stop. Days, weeks, months, can pass without one, but Krolia knows as long as they’re in the quantum abyss, the timeflashes will continue. It’s the price of passage.

There isn't much to do on the space whale beyond surviving, and she’s good at that. It leaves her with more idle time than she’s used to. The war has been her reality for so long she she can barely remember a time when it wasn’t surrounding her on all sides, suffocating her private moments. Even on Earth, in that brief time she thought she could stay — stay with the man she loved, stay with their child — the war was still always in the back of her mind. It’s not now. This is a place the war can’t touch. It brings her a peace she hasn’t known since childhood.

That thought is on her mind when the timeflash comes. She thinks that’s why the memory that appears is chosen.

She’s a tiny thing. Scratches cover her body. A particularly nasty cut on her shoulder will leave a scar. They’re not visible yet, but there are bruises forming that will have her wincing for days. She sits in a dim apartment that fills Krolia with nostalgia. There are notches on the wall that mark Krolia’s height. There are plants on the kitchen table that come from exotic worlds Krolia still has never been to. A decorative sword hangs on the wall that Krolia will sometimes snatch down to play pretend, one day accidentally tearing up a cushion and setting off a chain of events that lead her to learning how to actually  _use_  it. But that’s later. Right now her younger self is staring down a Galran man that shares her eyes, her marks, her coloring — her uncle. The younger Krolia’s gaze is defiant. It gives the older Krolia pause. She’s seen that look recently — but not on her own face.

Her uncle pulls out a jar of salve from a cabinet and sets it down next to a motley collection of first aid equipment. They are better suited to a battlefield than the scrapes and bruises of a child, but her uncle was always a worrier.

“Krolia.” The younger Krolia glares at him in silence. He shakes his head and begins to cleans her wounds. He is methodical, his hand steady and practiced. He was a solider once, but she never learns more than that. She thinks now he may have been a medic. The smaller her looks straight ahead as he works, ignoring the sting from the disinfectant.

When he finishes, he starts fussing over her wounds with the salve. She recognizes now it’s military issue. Truly overkill for a child’s cuts and scrapes. “Krolia, promise me you won’t do anything so reckless again.”

Krolia-the-child bites her lipa. She has no practice yet hiding her emotions, no practice telling lies. “I just wanted to see one match—“

“The arena is no place for a child.” His tone is calm but final.

The younger Krolia’s eyes flare.

“Kilka’s parents take her to the arena. They even take Runzat, and he’s younger than me!” Kilka describes in gory details the matches she sees, filling their little friend group with envy. That’s why Krolia spends weeks begging her uncle to take her to a match, but he stubbornly refuses. She takes matters into her own hands and tries to sneak in by climbing over the fencing surrounding the arena. It doesn’t work. Her foot slips and she falls, injuring herself in the process. Guards find her and won’t let her go until she hails her uncle to pick her up like some escaped fugitive.

“What Kilka’s family does is their business. You shouldn’t be watching those matches.” Her uncle does not raise his voice, but there is anger there, a rarity for him. It should chastise her, but it doesn’t. She’s too stubborn in her belief that she’s right.

“Why not? What’s so wrong with going to the arena? I already know what happens, Kilka tells me everything. What difference does it make if I get to see the matches for myself? What do think will happen if I get to see some gladiators fight?” Young Krolia is smug. Her logic is sound. Her uncle says nothing.

The adult Krolia looks to the far left. She already knows how this scene plays out. A tall, Galran man stands in the doorway, watching. He is exceptionally good at going unnoticed despite his size. There is a scar on his face that Krolia never learns the story of. Not for the first time she wishes she could interact with a memory.

“I’ll take you.” The newcomer’s voice is deep and carries across the room.

“Yorak…” Her uncle frowns.

The small Krolia is triumphant. Her uncle treats her like a child, but that’s not Yorak’s way. He doesn’t lecture her, he doesn’t tell her to stop being reckless. He laughs a booming laugh at her antics, ruffles her hair in fondness at her stubbornness. She thinks today will be no different.

She is wrong.

“How about it, Krolia? You’ll get to see for yourself how magnificent the gladiators are.” He is smiling, but it’s wrong. The yellow glow of his eyes look menacing, the scar on his face seems to pop. “The captured slaves of the empire that have no other use. The elderly, the weak, the sick. Their deaths turned into entertainment. How would you like to see that?” He steps closer to her as he speaks. “Would you like to see a child younger than you be ripped apart by a starving beast? Oh, does Kilka leave out that bit? Does she tell you the gladiators are all glorious warriors, fighting to the death? Instead of frightened slaves being led to the slaughter?”

The small Krolia quivers under Yorak’s gaze, all triumph gone, but she does not look away. She’s filled with shame but she knows if she lets it consume her he’ll be disappointed. She can’t disappoint him.

Her uncle places a hand on Yorak’s upper arm. The action breaks the tension in the room. Krolia and Yorak’s staring contest ends.

“You’ve made your point.” He wraps his arm through Yorak’s. Yorak grunts in response. The Krolia of now can recognize what her younger self couldn’t: Yorak is embarrassed by his outburst. He doesn’t need to be. This is the moment that Krolia realizes the universe is more complicated than it seems. It’s her first step to turning her back on the Empire.

The timeflash ends and it takes Krolia a moment to remember why she’s whittling the ends of sticks into sharp points instead of standing in her uncle’s apartment.

She hears Keith before she sees him. The wolf trails after him. It’s getting bigger every day. She isn’t sure if it’s privy to their timeflashes, but the thought it could be amuses her.

“Who was that?” Keith asks. It’s rare he asks about a timeflash, but then he usually knows the people in them or at least can guess by their uniforms.

“That was my uncle and his partner, Yorak. In some ways they raised me more than my parents — your grandparents did.” Keith has a million questions in his eyes. She doesn’t like thinking about her parents, but she’ll answer whatever questions Keith has. He has a right to know. They’re his family. Their faults and imperfections are part of the universe’s complications.

But he doesn’t ask about them. There is something else in the memory he is fixated on. “Yorak… that’s who you wanted to name me after?” Gingerly, she nods. There’s something frantic in Keith’s manner. “Partner, what do you mean by that?”

She blinks. Of all the questions, this is one she does not expect. She can instantly tell this is important to him. She is careful with her answer, afraid she will frighten him off. She is not sure why it seems one wrong word will ruin him. “The Galran word for it encapsulates many things. Family, friend, lover. They were all of that and more to each other.”

Her words are a revelation to Keith. He is weighing them, lost in thought. He doesn’t ask any more questions and she doesn’t pry. She just holds on to this new information about her son; information he doesn’t know yet he’s given her.

 

* * *

 

Krolia, Keith, and the wolf are taking shelter from the rain in the little cave they’ve turned into a home when another timeflash hits.

Krolia has seen Shiro before. He’s the most frequent recurring figure in Keith’s timeflashes. Krolia hasn’t even met the man but she feels like she's known him for years.

Keith seems so small in the vision. She wants to reach out and protect him. She’s seen him at this age before, and she can tell he’s smaller than he should be. It’s one of the many things that break her heart. A scrape on his face no one bothered to treat, a hole in his shirt, worn out shoes — all of it speaks of neglect. She put humans on a pedestal after knowing just one. She knows better now — humans are not all kindness and goodness, running into danger to save an alien that crash-landed in their yard. They are as complicated as the Galra.

Keith yanks a pair of goggles off his face. His smile is bright enough to power the hover bike he sits on.

Shiro is parked next to him on a matching hover bike. They’re in some sort of hanger. Judging by the color scheme, Krolia thinks they must be at the Garrison.

“I won.” Keith hops off the hover bike and almost runs to Shiro. His eagerness to be at Shiro's side is endearing.

Shiro pulls off a matching set of goggles and slides off the hover bike. The fondness in his expression as he looks at Keith warms Krolia’s heart. She is truly grateful someone would look at Keith that way. Keith’s life wasn’t entirely one of neglect.

“You sure did. Though I think that last maneuver was cheating.”

Keith looks scandalized. “Cheating? Just admit you can’t keep up with me. Old age is getting to you.”

There’s a small chuckle from the doorway. A man in glasses smiles at the pair of them. Krolia hasn’t seen him before.

“Adam!” Shiro’s return smile is dazzling. Shiro is at his side in seconds and gives him a small peck on the cheek before pulling him in for a hug.

The hug lingers and Krolia looks back at her son. It blindsides her. He is watching Shiro and Adam with so much longing it makes her stomach drop. He squeezes the goggles in his hand with a force that’s impossible for his size. They crack. He shoves the ruined goggles in his pocket, hiding the evidence.

She wants to hold him, to tell him everything will be fine even if she doesn’t know it will be. She doesn’t know who Adam is, she doesn’t know where he is now. She doesn’t even know yet if  _Shiro_  will survive his future encounter with her son, and she strongly suspects a future where he doesn’t isn’t one her son will be fine with.

The timeflash ends and the sound of rain returns. It’s soothing. She’s missed the sound. She’s spent most of her life on spaceships and military bases.

Keith stares out at the rain. The space wolf sleeps contently at his feet. Krolia gets up to sit next him. She pulls him into a hug. She’s allowed this much at least. Words are hard for both of them and there are some things Keith doesn’t want to speak aloud. Not yet. But he’s still her son and she wants to soothe his heartache as best as she can.

 

* * *

 

 

There are more timeflashes in the weeks to come, painting a picture of the relationship between her son and the man that changes his life.

That small moment of heartache in the hanger does nothing to prepare her for the raw grief he displays when the mission Shiro is on ends in disaster. Keith is a vessel of rage and pain, fists and tears. There is room for nothing else. The humans around him aren’t equipped to deal with the turbulent emotions that plague the Galra. They want Keith’s grief to be silent and noble. They want him to honor Shiro’s memory in a way that suits their needs. They’ve lost Shiro, but he is replaceable and Keith is that replacement.

It doesn’t surprise her when Keith lunges at an instructor and strikes him with all the violence of a man that has nothing left to lose.

The resulting scene is chaos. They are afraid of Keith and the monstrous strength that lets him fling a man almost twice his size across the room with one swing of his fist. There is shouting, the instructor holds a hand to his eye. Security runs into the room.

Krolia ignores them all. She only has eyes for her son. His pain is the only thing that matters to her.

 

* * *

 

 

Keith holds onto the wolf as he sleeps. It’s a cold night but a fire is lit and Krolia knows from experience the blade’s armor will never let its wearer be too cold or too hot. Still, Keith buries his face in the wolf’s fur, the perfect pillow and blanket, even if it is prone to teleporting.

She doesn’t expect the timeflash.

It’s been a while since the last one — Keith saying goodbye to the other paladins, to Shiro, before leaving for the Blades — and they haven’t seen anything else of the future, only that first glimpse of Shiro before they settled on the space whale.

The scene she finds herself in is familiar.

Two hover bikes race in the desert. The red one is definitely Keith. She recognizes his piloting style. No one pilots as beautifully as him. The other pilot, she guesses, is Shiro.

It’s always Shiro.

Keith speeds past an imaginary finish line and stops in front of her. He whoops and raises his hands in the air, gloved fingers reaching for the sky. His back is broad.

Shiro catches up moments later and shock runs through Krolia. His hair is silver and the tech of his arm is something she hasn’t seen before. This isn’t the past.

Keith gets off the hover bike and she sees a scar, so like her markings, across one side of his face.

“I won,” Keith says. His expression is the perfect blend of smugness and joy.

“You did.” The look on Shiro’s face is fond, but in a strikingly different way than the timeflash in the hanger. The part of her that will forever see Keith as the baby she held in her arms does not approve of anyone ever looking at him like that, but the more rational part of her feels relief at what this means for her son’s future.

“Not going to claim I cheated?”

Shiro puts on a display of shock at the idea. “I’d never.”

The sun is setting. The two of them are ablaze in a glow of reds and oranges. Shiro’s hands settle on Keith’s waist.

Keith says something, but Krolia doesn’t hear it. The scene is fading. She gets one last glimpse of Keith's hands on Shiro’s shoulder as he stands on his toes.

 

* * *

 

 

Krolia doesn’t tell Keith what she’s seen. She knows he worries about the future, about the Shiro that stared at him with cold eyes, but she’s afraid if she springs this on him she’ll alter events and she can’t allow that.

Her son was happy. He was with the man he loves.

She can not, will not take that away from him.

She’ll let the future play out as it must.

 

* * *

 

 

The final timeflash she sees before they reach their destination once again happens while Keith is asleep, oblivious.

She’s in it this time.

She can’t tell if she’s older, but when she sees Keith, sees the scar on his face, she knows it’s the future again.

Keith is in white, not the familiar paladin armor, but something else. She thinks it’s Earth clothing, but there is a mix of Galran style to it that takes her by surprise. His hair is pushed out of his face for once. It suits him.

He paces around in a small room while the Krolia that is not her yet watches him from a bench, amusement and exasperation in her eyes.

“What if—“ Keith begins.

Krolia stops him. “That will absolutely not happen.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say.” The childish whine in his voice is at odds with his appearance, older than she’s seen yet.

“I don’t need to, I know it’s not going to happen.”

Keith isn’t the only one dressed up. Krolia is wearing a dress. She has never worn a dress in her life. There is some kind of design on her claws. They sparkle in the light. Not even her hair is left unscathed. There’s jewelry in it. She is certain the whole ensemble is someone else’s doing.

“But what if Shiro—”

There’s a familiar flash.

A gigantic space wolf and a bewildered, half-dressed Shiro pop into existence, interrupting Keith’s pacing. The space wolf, Krolia notes, is smug. This was a creature that knew what it was doing.

Keith is immediately at his side. Krolia and the wolf are ignored, as they are not Shiro and therefore not the center of his universe. “Shiro, you’re not even dressed yet!” The lack of acknowledgment that Shiro has teleported into the room against his will makes her think this must be a common occurrence. Keith frantically buttons up Shiro's shirt, only to unbutton it seconds later, clearly regretting his decision. His eyes unnecessarily linger on Shiro’s chest.

The Krolias roll their eyes in tandem.

“The wedding isn’t for another two hours,” Shiro says. He has a loopy look on his face, like he’s teleported one too many times and is suffering brain damage as a result. His eyes roam Keith from top to bottom. His smile is looking loopier by the second, and she feels sympathy for her future self as she pulls out a bottle labeled “Everclear” from a pocket in her dress. She hopes it’s strong enough to affect Galra.

The future Krolia takes a long swig from the bottle. She’s not sure if there’s anything left in it when the future her finishes, but she shoves it back in her pocket nonetheless. “Weren’t you trying not to meet before the wedding?” The Krolia from now knows nothing of Earth wedding traditions; her only guess is they must be kept apart or the wedding will never happen. It’s a reasonable guess. Shiro’s shirt is now completely off, leaving him less dressed than when he arrived.

“That’s—well. That’s true,” Keith says. He frowns as if he can’t believe he has agreed to that condition, despite the obvious necessity. Shiro brushes a hand through Keith’s hair. He’s going to ruin it given the chance.

“Well then. OUT!” She shoos the enamored couple apart and pushes Shiro out the door. The space wolf follows him, still pleased with itself.

“Mom!” The future Krolia doesn’t react to her son’s embarrassment, but the Krolia of now carries the sound of that word with her even as the vision ends.

_Mom._

Such a simple word.

Keith stirs in his sleep. She knows there is pain in his future still. The scar on his face is proof of that, but so is the arm Shiro has, the silver of his hair. Those will hurt Keith more than the scar she thinks.

But that’s okay. There is more to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Soon........I'll write actual Sheith. Hopefully. This is still just me dipping my toes in the pool.
> 
> P.S. Mrs. Holt dressed up Krolia.


End file.
